


More than Less

by Dr_D_Fox



Series: More, Less, Nothing [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Captive, Demons, F/M, Mage, Non-Inquisitor Main Character, Prison, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_D_Fox/pseuds/Dr_D_Fox
Summary: During the Mage War, a young elvhen mage is captured by Templars that are trying to reform the Circles under stricter rules than ever before. She languishes in a prison, often forgotten, and so retreats to the Fade to Dream.She finds another Dreamer there, and learns that even in the Fade, you can fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a series of short little snippets. It is still a single story, just doesn't have all the in-between stuff. Enjoy!

Envy wasn’t a frequent visitor for me, so it was absolutely fascinating to get to meet the spirit. Perhaps it had been the encounter I’d had earlier with one of the ‘tame’ mages helping the Templars seek other apostates. Maybe it was that, thanks to my sharp tongue, the other mages in the prison were fed tonight and I was not. For whatever reason, Envy was here, and after realizing I wasn’t a good portal into the mortal realm, the spirit was still pleased to be able to sit and chat for a time, telling me of all the things, great and small, horrible and wonderful, that envy could and had done. For being a form of Desire, Envy wasn’t nearly as beautiful, and was far less convincing, but somehow much more interesting.

It was this spirit, in fact, that warned me of the intruder long before my own magic could sense him. “He is coming here. He has watched you before. He does not like me, but I am familiar enough with him.” The spirit gives a sly, knowing little smile and wink that I wish I could mimic when the Templars made snide comments. But its face quickly smooths and it watches over my shoulder as its voice drops to a whisper. “Be warned, his tongue is as silver as it is barbed.”

So, when his voice comes, pleasantly rebuking, I do not startle. “Tempting fate by dallying with any and all spirits that come to you is a dangerous thing, da’len.”

I glance up at where he’s standing- obviously male, but his form purposefully distorted so that I cannot make out most of his features- and I _envy_ his ability to look so poised and steady in the Fade. My spirit companion laughs. Envy is a fine spirit to hear laugh, but it is like walking a knife’s edge. I pull that emotion back just a little- its smile remains, but the spirit is otherwise calm. Good.

The stranger’s eyebrow lifts in surprise at Envy’s actions. It is only then that he seems interested in our surroundings- an open glade with a twilight sky, and my spirit friends enjoying the taste of the world I provide. There sits Sloth, Supine, to be exact, bored and waiting for my attention to return to the world outside the Fade. Fear, by the name of Trepidation, hardened and older than the other spirits, curls at my feet like some kind of armored cat. Resolve, hovers nearby, keeping a balance between us all- a soldier after my own heart. Oddly, in Templar armor, but with a mage’s staff in hand. No doubt influenced by my location. The stranger’s eyes return to mine, and he gives a brief bow of his head, acknowledging my longtime friends. “You attract spirits like they were children to a sweet shop. Most mages would be terrified. Or dead.”

“Good thing I’m not most mages, hm? Now go away. Most mages also don’t like intruders to their dreams.” I return my attention to Envy, who seems to swell a little in man’s presence.

He does not leave, but instead asks with great curiosity, “Who are you?”

“A captive. Who are you?”

He pauses, as if the first part was unexpected (to be fair, it likely was) and changed the answer to the second part. Finally, he spoke with a bow, “A friend.” His form shifts, and now I can see him clearly. An elf, like me. Bald headed and tall, clothed in some kind of armor that screams of battle and nobility. A strip of thick fur accents it, and I find myself impressed by him.

I could use a friend, right about now…

*

I see him again a week later, and I send the spirit I was speaking with away with a wave of my hand. Lassitude is happy to leave, or, as happy as such a lazy spirit can get, now that purpose burns so brightly in me. My surroundings brighten and solidify as my attention is once again focused. “Hello ‘Friend’, I am glad to see you return.”

He smiles, tipping his head to one side like a confused puppy, “I said I would, did I not?”

Wrinkling my nose at him, I conjure up a few comfy logs to sit on, though I flop down on the ground and lean against mine. “People often say nice things, but that doesn’t make them true.”

He’d watched me carefully, studying what I’d brought to the Fade, before he sat down while I spoke. Now he lifts a hand to create a fire between us, as if we were out camping, “You are correct. I apologize, then, that my intentions to return were not clear enough.”

I can’t help but stare at the fire. It had been so long since I’d been near one. Even the torches near my cell were out of my sight, and the Templars didn’t bother bringing one when they shoved food into the door or pulled out the bucket. It almost felt warm. I reach forward, willing the sensation to be more solid- and am delighted when it happens, even if I can feel that it was the will of the one who conjured it, not mine. Heat, real and nearly blistering, springs from the Fade-fire before me. My face must have betrayed a childish delight, because my new companion leans forward, concern and amusement warring on his features. “Would you like me to teach you how to do this?”

This must have been my birthday, because there was no other explanation for why the Creators would give me such a precious gift. All worry or hurt over his absence is gone, replaced with only my desperate need to learn and remember the world outside my cell. “Please, hahren?”

He laughs, and I find myself suddenly as entranced by his face as by the flames beneath my hands. “Of course, da’len.”

*

We are walking along a creek tonight, the moon high overhead and the air crisp with passing winter. I can’t help but take a long, slow breath, using what my Hahren has taught me to bring real scent to the Fade. I don’t quite remember what spring smells like, though. The water, the trees, the smell that is the cool night air, I have those. But spring… What did spring smell like?

A hand touches my shoulder, and I look up, realizing that I had stopped moving in my desperation to remember. He watches me, brow pulled down tight in concern, “What are you trying to make, da’len?”

I run my fingers through my hair and sigh, looking at the trickling water beside us. “It’s silly, but I can’t remember what it smells like.”

“What _what_ smells like? Perhaps I can help.”

The air is quiet, and I realize I hadn’t added sound to our nightly stroll beyond the music of the creek. There were no birds or crickets or hunting creatures. I don’t remember what they sound like either. But this first. Why can’t I remember it? What season even was it right now? His hand does not leave my arm, and it burns through my thin tunic until I look back to him helplessly. “Spring.”

Confusion crosses his face, before the implications of my words seem to click and it falls. “Da’len…” he’s speaking carefully, gently, like I might break. “You said, the first time we met, you were a captive.”

We hadn’t had this discussion yet, had we? Had it really only been a month since we met? “Yes, hahren.”

“How long?”

That isn’t exactly the question I expect, but my eyes look up to the moon as I think. I remember the moon. And the stars. I have trouble with clouds and the sun, though. How many nights had I spent running, while I slept during the day?

I don’t even remember what season it was when they finally caught me. “Long enough to forget the smell of spring.”


	2. Chapter 2

I had never met a spirit of Rebellion. This was a young one, child of an older Justice spirit. Hahren smiles indulgently at it, while the spirit put its hands on its hips and glares defiantly up at him- with a playful tinge of mischief.

I don’t know why my friend brought the spirit here. I recognize it, though, if only in my heart. The tinge of magic that seems to color it, the spark at its fist, the haunted look that it hides behind its eyes. I know this spirit. “It is from the mage war, isn’t it, Hahren?”

He turns, studying me before giving a short nod.

I understand this lesson.

The war- the very reason I am captive- has spawned many new spirits and slain others. The world has changed the Fade in a way that is irreversible. Even if I do not influence my spirit friends, the world outside still could.

*

“I told you not to speak with all the spirits that come to you! Do you not understand the danger you put yourself in? Can you comprehend the horror that an abomination becomes, for the mage _and_ the spirit?!” My elf friend has been raging at me for nearly an hour. He did something to the Fade and I can’t just wake up and ignore him. I tried, he just got angrier.

I resist rolling my eyes, but only just. “Hahren, I have been coming to the Fade since I was six years old. My first friend was a spirit of Curiosity, old and withered and so very pleased to have a young Dreamer to learn from and teach. If I did not know how to handle Resentment, I would have long ago been possessed. He is an old friend, and we know each other well.”

His hand makes a down slash in the air, and I feel the ripple of his power with it- he is _very_ angry. “That is exactly my point, da’len! Any spirit of Rage is dangerous! Resentment is not a spirit you can be _friends_ with!”

Done with his ranting and belittling, I stand and shove a spike of my will through the bubble that is surrounding us, “It might not be for _you_ , but not all of us have the joy of walking freely! Good day to you, Hahren.” I don’t think I could have gotten away with it if he’d been expecting it. Or perhaps he simply underestimated my own magic while overestimating his. When my spike pierced his bubble, I had enough room to slip out and return to the waking world.

The last thing I see is his face, mouth a limp ‘o’ of shock, as I leave his space and return to my cell.

Waking up is never fun.

Losing a friend over it is even worse.

*

It is a month before he returns. A full month. After that initial week between first and second meeting, we had not been apart for more than the waking hours. Nearly two months, he had been there every time I lay my head down to sleep.

But now, a month has gone by and I despair.

I wonder how other mages know just how deeply their emotions run, without seeing the spirits I do. Oh, they might meet one or two when they dream, but their dreams barely brush the Fade and their emotions must be obvious beacons to attract a spirit of any power.

I am a Dreamer, though, and the spirits come even when I’m only dosing.

True Despair. It is a strange creature that I’ve only seen once before, many years ago, and Rage and Hope kept it at bay. Even still, that first time haunted me for years after, and every time I smell rotting apples, I think of it again. This one is different, though, and I do not have enough of either emotion in me to call the spirits I used the first time.

Despair is tall, draped in ragged cloth, long arms reaching to grasp something one moment, then falling uselessly to its sides the next. You could _see_ the futility of trying… Even so, it creeps closer to me. For one brief moment, I almost wonder if it would make anything better to let it in…

Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Despair whips around and lunges for me, screaming its demand with inhuman shrieks that shatter my ears. I panic, calling on my magic to throw up shield after shield as it breaks through each of them and reaches towards me with those long, dagger-tipped fingers-

Something, a massive beast, leaps from the shadows and bowls the spirit over with a roar of rage. Snarling and thrashing, the two creatures battle with physical rips of flesh and blasts of magic power. I can’t track the movement, but instead, use the time to harden my resolve and build up my mental barriers again. I call to me Resolve and Trepidation, companions of mine long enough that they come eagerly to my aid. While Rage and Hope, in their pure forms, can hold a spirit at bay with little thought, Resolve and Trepidation are weaker, more malleable, and thus must fight in order to stop as powerful a beast as Despair. They throw themselves into the fray, with Resolve joining the fight directly, and Trepidation taking cautious bites from the sidelines- well away from the damaging claws.

It is fierce and brutal and despite this being the Fade I can actually smell blood in the air- and I know now who it is that has come to my aid. The fact that he seems to have taken a different form does not mean anything- I _know_ him.

“Hahren!” My hand reaches forward and without hesitation, I cast my spell- lightning sparks across the Fade and lights Despair from within. Trepidation flees, unable to handle both the battle and my unwavering action. Resolve stays, but its goal shifts from simply defeating Despair, to protecting my teacher. I see its form flicker, though, and I fear what I and this fight are doing to it. I cannot call it away, for that will surely break it, but I can try to reinforce it. I harden my mind to what needs to be done- allowing for both tasks without the need to diminish either. We will defeat Despair, and we will keep Hahren from harm. Resolve solidifies.

I cannot fling magic into the mess again, for risk of hitting my allies, but I carefully cast shields and wards for Resolve, and healing spells for my teacher.

When it finally ends, Despair is not destroyed, but flees our sphere of influence with Resolve hot on its heels. I worry about my spirit friend but know that it is out of my control now. My eyes turn to my teacher. He does not look elvhen today- instead, he is in the form of a giant wolf. Something familiar stirs in my mind at the sight, but I brush it off and instead rush to his side, fingers running through his fur in search of wounds. I know that they are manifestations of mental and magical injury only, not literal rends in the flesh, but I can’t help but imagine blood running down from them every time I find them- and it covers my hands in red. “Hahren- Despair is a powerful spirit. How could you throw yourself at it like that?”

He chuckles, his voice a low, pained growl, “How ironic, that _you_ should lecture me on interacting with powerful spirits.”

I can’t help but laugh a little, even as I bleed my own magic into his wounds, “If you need lecturing on this, then I shall.” We are silent as our magics work together. Finally, he rises and shakes off like a dog shaking water from its fur. The image makes me smile a little, but only sadly. “Hahren… I was not expecting you to come back.”

Looking at me like that makes me squirm, there is pity and sorrow and something else behind those eyes. “I was not the one that left last time, da’len.”

True. That had been my doing.

I sit down and the Fade ripples around me into a thick forest with trees so large and thick that you cannot tell if the dark is from the night or the branches above. I remember the smell of loamy earth. Every once in a while, a Templar will come into the prison with mud on his boots and the smell of rain hanging about him. Even as I think of it, the rumble of thunder shakes the air, and a slow rain trickles through the canopy above.

The wolf moves, walking behind me and laying down so that his fur brushes against my back. He forms a protective half-circle behind me, and I am too wary to complain. I can protect myself, but I am tired and for one night, it would be nice to rely on another… I lean back against him. Heat radiates from his massive body, and I can feel each slow breath he takes. You might not need to breathe in the Fade, but it becomes such a habit from the living world that you cannot help but do it in the Fade.

He is the one to break the silence, his mouth so close to my ear that I feel the puff of air across my face, “I have never asked for your name, da’len.”

My lips curl up a little as my eyes close and my head falls against his warm flank, “You have not.”

A pause. “Ahn mar melin?” Amusement.

I laugh but otherwise don’t move from my position, “Nanehn. And yours?”

His heartbeat thuds behind me, hard and strong and sure, one, two, three, before he answers, “Solas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> (Language used from FenxShiral's Elvhen Lexicon here on A03)
> 
> Ahn mar melin? - What is your name?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, chapter length is going to be pretty varied and short.

Wisdom is not what I was expecting. Most of the spirits I have spent time with take on the forms of creatures, mythical or real, though never quite precise. Spirits tend to have a hard time holding a singular form, and shift and waver with the influence of those feeling their emotional name. Wisdom, on the other hand, is very well defined as an elven woman.

She smiles at me and gives a small bow, “On dhea'lam, Nanehn. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” I feel in awe to be so near a spirit this old and well formed. Would I even be able to influence her form and being? Her smile becomes a knowing one and she shakes her head in response to my unspoken question, “Not without you trying a great deal. Fen’harel never has.”

“Sileal!” Solas barks, head snapping to her with obvious anger and- fear?

Wisdom only laughs and touches his arm, “Be calm, lethallin. Newly knowing your other name will not change things.”

His other name? Solas was not his only name? How strange.

Changing the subject, Wisdom lifts her hand towards a suddenly appearing wood bench and three strange structures- like a sailing ship met a wagon and could not decide which to be. “Tell me, da’len, what do you know of your heritage? You are not from a city alienage, but neither are you Dalish?”

I follow her to the benches, looking around with curiosity and yet again, a stirring of familiarity, “That is right. My father was Dalish, but my mother was a servant in a human settlement.” The familiarity settled into me, and I smile in wonder as I turn to Wisdom, “These are Dalish aravels, aren’t they?”

Wisdom smiles and nods, “They are. What do you know of your father’s people?”

I shrug and study the amazing details Wisdom has placed around me, “Almost nothing. My father raised me when my mother died, but he preferred to teach me what I needed to survive, not ‘superstition’ as he called it.”

Something passes between Wisdom and Solas and he moves to stand beside me, but I ignored him as I notice that my own clothing had been changed. It is odd armor, flexible but firm, with sweeping curves ending in sharp points coming of my shoulder and hip in odd layers. My feet were bare, but for strange leggings that hook around the arches of my feet. Similarly, the sleeves on my arms go down to my hands but left most of my fingers open and exposed. It is strange but given the setting and point Wisdom was trying to make, it must be Dalish. If she could show me this… “Wisdom, can you show me what the mage warriors of old wore? Before the fall of our people?”

I hear a sharp intake of breath from beside me, but Wisdom beams, as if I have learned a valuable lesson, and the Fade bends to her ancient will.

This was more practical, but somehow so much more beautiful. The long lines, the delicate curves, the metal and crystal and supple white leather. Power and beauty, molded so perfectly together. I wasn’t worthy of this armor. Never the less, I bowed low to Wisdom, “Serannasan ma, Wisdom.”

She seems so pleased, though her outward pose has not changed, “I think this fits you much better than the armor of your father’s people. Do you not agree, Solas?”

From my side I hear Solas whisper. I do not think he meant for me to hear it, but it became a barb in my heart that I know will worm its way deeper.

“Ina’lan’ehn…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> On dhea'lam, Nanehn - Good evening, Nanehn.  
> Sileal- Wisdom  
> Serannasan ma, - My thanks (formal)  
> Ina’lan’ehn - Beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

I think he brought Hope with him as a gift.

I’m not entirely sure he did it on purpose, but maybe as a subconscious desire to bring me something beautiful and helpful. Yet there it is, shining so brightly that it hurts to look at it. Tearing into my heart as surely as Despair had wanted to.

How long since I had seen Hope? How long since I had spoken with it? What did I have now, that would not twist this noble, beautiful creature?

Tears well and my breath hitches, and Hope shudders and fades. Solas, quick as he was, moves us away from the spirit before my despair can harm it, ripping through the Fade so fast that I can barely keep up.

Once we were away from its influence, I cannot hold back and a sob tumbles from me, the force of it making me collapse forward- only to be caught in his arms.

“Ir abelas, Nanehn. Ir abelas.” He is whispering, over and over and over.

All I can do is cry and cling to him, curled against his chest.

 *

I am awake when it happens but still manage to feel the ripple in the Veil around me. All the mages do- even some of the older Templars. There is scrambling outside my cell, then a call for a check. Before the command has even finished being shouted, I hear the footfalls of at least a dozen Templar. A few words I can’t quite hear, then they were marching down the hall. Those of the younger mages who had come to their doors to see what was happening quickly leap back against the back wall. Those of us who have been here longer already know better. Nothing hurts as much as a smite when you were already starved and weak.

I know better than to ask questions or look up as the Templars passed. That doesn’t mean I can’t listen, though. Whispers from the hall, from the office, from above us. They are speaking of… a hole? No, a tear. In the Veil.

Creators help us…

*

Five days.

It has been five days since I’d seen him last, and I fear the worst.

Hearing his voice now is a salve on the wounds of my soul- I have lost enough, I don’t need to lose him as well. But I can’t move from where I am huddled. Not even to throw my arms around him. I feel frozen.

“Nanehn, you live.” Relief colors his voice, but so does fear and worry. I can almost taste them- familiar of emotions as they have become.

“I live, Solas.” I can see his feet now, close in front of me, bare and long- like his hands. What an odd thing to notice.

I am seated on the ground, legs tucked tightly to my chest, arms around my knees, eyes resolutely staying down. I have missed him, but I know that he will have questions. And probably answers that I might not want to listen to.

“You have heard?”

The Veil. He is asking if I knew about the Breach. Creators… my voice wasn’t going to stay steady. “I have. I saw it.”

His toes curl as I imagine his fists do too. His voice is sharp with rebuke, “That was dangerous, Nanehn! You could have been torn from your body-“

“I lost two of my friends, Solas. I will not go to look again. I promise.”

His body relaxes, and suddenly he is crouched before me, his fingers under my chin and forcing me to look up in his eyes. I know what he must see. I am too tired to build a construct of what I wish to look like. Instead, I appear as I am. Eyes red and swollen from hours of crying. Face drawn and edging towards emaciated from five days without food and only what water I could sip off the leak along the wall. My hair is limp, shorn as close to my scalp as it is in the real world, and my body is covered in what only barely passes as a robe, for how tattered it is.

He doesn’t see that, though. He looks past it and into my very core. No judgment. No pity. Only sorrow and empathy, “I am sorry, da’len. Who were they?”

My arm moves on its own, and my finger points to the place in the Fade that they usually occupied, “Trepidation. Supine.”

I can see him struggle to accept that these losses would hurt me. I know that they are not spirits most people would wish to know so well, much less mourn. But they were mine, and I mourn them.

“Are you safe?”

Ah, he doesn’t mean in the Fade. This area is safe enough- there are no rifts nearby, and all the most dangerous spirits are lingering around the Breach or its many offspring. He means in the real world.

“Teleolasan, hahren.” My voice wavers and I can feel tears slide over my eyes and down my cheeks.

 Now his hands cup my face, and I can’t help but lean into the touch- it’s almost real. I’m surprised by how wonderful it feels, and how much I yearn to keep it there. My chest aches for it, and I find myself cursing my Dreaming for this torture- so close to real, but not what I need. He swipes a thumb across the path of my tears, “Where are you, Nanehn?”

Had this been a week before, I might not have told him. I might have simply brushed him off and told him that it didn’t matter. But why should I, now? There was nothing to protect. “Therinfal Redoubt. I am at the Templar’s keep in Therinfal Redoubt.”

Of all the spirits I thought would be drawn to our misery, Hope, was not the one. It was faint, tentative, careful, but there it was, just over his shoulder. Drawn not to me- but to him. The implications swirl around my mind until I feel… a hope of my own.

The spirit flares brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Ir abelas - I am sorry.  
> Teleolasan - I don’t know.


	5. Chapter 5

Hope and Rebellion have taken up the empty place left by Trepidation and Supine. It is dangerous to have them here, but I no longer care. I have a reason, a purpose. Even through the thick cell walls I can hear the change. The rebellion continues. The Herald of Andreste is a mage. The public is leaning, swaying, under the influence of the call. The Templars _fear_.

Hope and Rebellion.

It will be over soon, and I am eager.

*

His hand cups my jaw and cheek, fingers splayed across my skin. Despite being in the Fade, his touch is real- solid and warm. My heart twists and there is an ache there that I have been ignoring. Voice low and soft, he smiles, “Nanehn. Ehn’ma.”

I return the smile, but don’t speak- too afraid of shattering the gentle wash of emotions that play upon the Fade. His touch. The only thing I’ve craved in many months. His voice. The only thing I’ve heard outside my own pale Fade-companions and the demon-Templars of the real world. This moment. All I’ve had to cling to in a very long time.

He hums a tune now, softly, gently. It feels familiar, but I cannot place it. One hand slides down my arm, taking my fingers with his. The other comes around my waist, and I find my free hand on his shoulder. With his humming as our guide, we dance around the empty Fade, slowly and calmly, as if there is nothing else here besides us. Finally he sings, and Wisdom, never far from him these days, whispers in my ear that it is an old courting song from when he was young. The words are hard to understand- older and more fluid in their meaning, but my cheeks heat at the insinuations none the less.

“E tundra'ashalan, esalathal'ishan gara

E tundra'mamae, sul em su josh tuas tharala.

Dhulaman o targen'jol, dhulaman Elvhenor

Dhulaman o manala, on'ala Elvhenan.”

Who could have known that something so simple as a Dream, could become this? Here, in the Fade, I had retreated from the fear and horrors the Templars inflicted upon me. This was the place I had come to, not caring what happened to myself, only that I did not twist the spirits that lay within. It had been a place of escape, when so little hope still thrived in me of escaping in the real world.

Then, this beautiful man had come. Teaching me. Training me. Reminding me what the outside world looks like and how freedom tastes. Giving me Hope once again. Now he dances with me and sings a courting song as if for this moment, I was the only thing in this world that gave him hope in return.

“Dhulaman o targen'jol, dhulaman Elvhenor

Dhulaman o manala, on'ala Elvhenan.

"Ahn ane min," dirth dhulaman Elvhenor

"Esalathal mar'ashalan," dirth dhulaman galanor.”

Our dancing slows as the song continues, until finally he stops, hand cupping my jaw again and body pressed tightly to mine. The words that came out now were whispers, a promise, as his eyes beg me to believe him.

“Ar dirthan sul as era, geran dhulathin

As dirtha sul em era, son varthem i athim.

"E, mahn amas arashalan?" dirth dhulaman Elvhenor

"Avy ama as i'em," dirth dhulaman galanor.

Dhulaman o targen'jol, dhulaman Elvhenor.”

His voice trails off, and we stand together in the kind of silence only found in the Fade.

My eyes burn, but I give a small, sad smile and ask the words that his song sparked, “Where would you take me?”

One corner of his mouth pulls up, returning smile with something akin to resolve, “I will take you with me.”

For the first time in over a year, I believe those words, and when I kiss him, I can taste the determination that has solidified between us. When he brings us gently to the ground with only a thought, I can feel the promise of his words settle into my body. And when we joined together alas’nira aron fen’en, I heard the _will_ he exerted on the Fade, shatter into reality itself.

He would come for me. He will take me away from here. No man or beast would stand in his path.

Solas is going to save me.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Nahnen’s name means “Your Joy”, so switching it up for play on words, Ehn’ma means “My Joy”  
> The important lines from the song:  
> "E, mahn amas arashalan?" dirth dhulaman Elvhenor  
> “Avy ama as i'em," dirth dhulaman galanor.  
> Means:  
> "Oh, where do you take my daughter?" says the Elvish seaweed  
> "I would take her with me," Says the elegant seaweed  
> The song is from FenxShiral here on AO3- look up their Elvhen Lexicon for all the awesome translations and more!
> 
> Alas’nira aron fen’en- to dance as the wolves do (aka, make love).


	6. Chapter 6

When I heard the door to my cell open, my heart soared. I leap to my feet, a smile already in place and his name on my lips. He’s come! He promised that he would take me away from here, and he has!

But it is not Solas who stands in the doorway.

I can feel ice wrap around my heart even as the smite drops me to the ground.

It isn’t Solas.

He will be too late.

 

 

*

 

[Solas POV]

 

 

Solas couldn’t understand. Nanehn stood before him, breathing, watching, but dead, as far as he was concerned.

His hand reached out to cup her jaw. Tears blurred his vision until he could no longer see the starburst pattern on her forehead. When he spoke, his voice cracked, even just above a whisper, "Avy ama as i'em…" An echo of the song he sang her, of the promise he’d made.

Something almost like recognition floats into her eyes. She speaks- monotone, dispassionate, the words are an echo of before, “Where would you take me?”

The knife in his hand is heavy, but the blade is sharp.

Solas presses his forehead to hers, eyes closed, “I will take you with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't throw things at me...>.>
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little angsty thing!  
> I am thinking about maybe writing a full Solas POV from the beginning to the end, and after.  
> What do you all think- does he kill her to save her from Tranquility? Or does he save her and hope to find a cure?  
> Tell me in the comments!
> 
> EDIT:  
> So you want more Solas/Nanehn? Wish granted! Part two is now available!


End file.
